


Day 3: Witching Hour

by 128andfalling



Series: Miraculous Spooktober [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Miraculous Spooktober, Piano, Restless Night, Sleepless night, This Is Sad, mama agreste - Freeform, witching hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/128andfalling/pseuds/128andfalling
Summary: The witching hour is the time of night when ghosts and demons are their most powerful/most likely to appear. Usually the hour between 3 and 4 am.





	Day 3: Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @128andfalling
> 
> This is part of @purrincess-chat 's Miraculous Spooktober!
> 
> Thanks for reading :3

We all have nights where sleep eludes us. There’s that awful feeling of being awake when by every reason you should be asleep. It’s just the right temperature, lighting, and coziness: the perfect conditions for a restful night of sleep. But no. Adrien stared at the ceiling, Plagg’s soft snores next to him. 

With a sigh, Adrien lit up his phone. 3:17 A.M. Great. Not sure what to do but too restless to stay in bed, Adrien slipped out careful not to wake Plagg. Leaving the door cracked, Adrien began to wander the halls of the huge mansion. The black and white scheme was eerie in the moonlight, which only reinforced the cold and empty feelings permeating through the building. In his mindless wandering, Adrien approached a door that had long been forgotten. He stood in front of the door contemplating if he should enter, and reached the conclusion that he be haunted by his own thoughts if he didn’t. Taking a deep breath, Adrien turned the handle and entered his mother’s parlor. Dust swirled in the moonlight with the movement. 

In contrast with the rest of the mansion, the parlor was warm and vibrant, even in the dark, late night hour. Colors of dark green, coral, and yellow filled the room. The furniture was soft, plush, and inviting. Paintings of flowers and landscapes adorned the wall, and a beautiful piano sat near the large windows overlooking the garden. Adrien padded over to his mother’s favorite instrument. The stand was littered with sheet music, untouched in her absence. Upon closer inspection, Adrien noted that it was a piece his mother had been composing. Tears welled in his green eyes—his mother’s eyes—as he thought about her unfinished work, a part of her legacy which had been forgotten. 

Adrien sat on the bench, the same bench where he first learned to play. Tentatively, he pressed middle C followed by a few other keys. It was still intune, despite its neglect. Turning on a small lamp, Adrien let his eyes adjust as he glanced around the slightly more lit room. His attention was captured by a portrait, featuring him at a much younger age with his parents. Adrien was sitting in his mother’s lap while Gabriel stood with his hands on Emilie’s shoulders. To Adrien’s surprise, Gabriel was smiling with everyone else. Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he saw his dad smile. 

Adrien turned his attention back to the sheet music before him. It didn’t seem too complicated. Taking a deep breath, he began to play, following the notes nearly seamlessly. Adrien saw his mother’s heart in the music she had written, and he was swept up in her melody. But the pages were blank too quickly. Adrien lingered on the last note as tears streamed down his face. The piece was beautiful, but incomplete. It reminded him of his own life. They had been happy, once upon a time. When she left, Adrien felt abandoned, forgotten, and incomplete. Adrien watched as a tear splattered on the keys below him. He missed her so much, but she was a part of him. While he played, Adrien had felt her presence. Now whether that was the music or the late night hour or perhaps both, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, Adrien reached the conclusion that he absence did not mean the end. Not the end of the song nor the end of his life. Even though she wasn’t here, her spirit wasn’t gone.

Starting with the last note, Adrien poured his heart back into the piano. His finger danced over where his mother’s once were. He revisited themes she had established and added his own, enhancing the song with his own creativity. Adrien didn’t know how long he had played when he reluctantly concluded the ballad. It had been so long since he had actually enjoyed the instrument. In every note, Adrien felt the connection with his mother, as if she was watching. 

Perhaps it was the music or the crying, but Adrian finally felt tired again. Surveying the room, he spotted an appealing couch already equipped with a pillow and a blanket. As soon as he laid down, Adrien entered into a deep slumber. 

Gabriel, who had had a restless night himself, listened to his wife’s music from the doorway of the parlor. It had been so long since music had come from this part of the house, and his heart broke when it became silent again. Adrien reminded him so much of Emilie. He watched his only child fall asleep, a hint of sadness in his eyes. She would often fall asleep in the same exact spot Adrien had chosen. Unable to bare his grief, Gabriel returned to his own room.

“Soon,” Gabriel whispered. “We will have her back soon.”


End file.
